


The Heart of Holmes

by NikaAnuk



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Kidlock, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-16
Updated: 2014-03-16
Packaged: 2018-01-15 22:40:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1321891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The main idea was to use the the picture of how Sherlock's mind looks like (and to make few nasty comments on Mycroft). I don't think it is what you expect this to be. But it's pretty close at the same time. <br/>Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart of Holmes

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank YaoiCreator for the help with beta. It wouldn't be posted without her.

Sherlock was walking along a dark corridor. The only sounds were his and Readbeard’s steps and the dog's breathing. No – the boy corrected himself – there were a lot of sounds around, he could hear wind blowing outside and through the nearest trees in the park, he recognised Mrs. Margaret's steps somewhere below, probably in the bathroom, there were also creaks and rustles from the old house. When Sherlock closed his eyes, all sounds became clearer. And suddenly the sound of the clock cut through the silence. At first Sherlock jumped, but then he started to count. One... Two... Three. Three heartbeats. It was so early... And soon the sun will rise. He had to hurry. Sherlock reached at his side to touch Redbeard's head and the sensation of soft fur under his fingers calmed him a little. He started to walk again, careful to not make a sound.   
The old house they lived in was big but not as big as was Mycroft's school – Sherlock went there once with his parents when his brother was getting a reward for being the best student. Mommy was very pleased but Sherlock thought Mycroft looked silly in his stupid hat and suit, and also Sherlock would get all prizes, not only one. But even if the house wasn't big enough for one hundred and fifty boys it was great and Sherlock would never go without Redbeard, it was dark and scary and Sherlock was a little afraid. Anyone would be – Sherlock said to himself – with all those portraits watching him and all those dark shadows.   
The dog was the closest what Sherlock had to a friend. He had read a lot about friends and it looked like Redbeard was his friend: he always listened and played with Sherlock and he also helped him. And after Mycroft went to school – which was stupid, and even Mycroft said that, and also those other kids were even more stupid than Sherlock – Readbeard was also Sherlock's only company. It was good because he never called Sherlock stupid, but he also never answered Sherlock's questions and that was dull. Fortunately Mommy always did, but then again, Sherlock couldn't go to her with every single question. He learned it from Mycroft when his brother asked him a question and called him stupid because he didn't know the answer. But when Sherlock asked Mommy she was angry with them and Mycroft again called him stupid. Sherlock quickly learned that there were three ways one could be stupid: by not knowing, by going to Mommy and talking about stuff they did and spoiling the fun or by simply not being Holmes.   
They reached the stairs for the servants. Mommy always repeated that they need to find a smaller house, maybe when Sherlock and Mycroft both will go to school; this one belonged to Papa's family and Sherlock quite liked it.   
The staircase ended three floors below, Sherlock leaned out to check if Mrs. Margaret is anywhere to be seen but she probably returned to her little flat already. The boy took the first few steps sliding his hand along the wooden railing. Redbeard followed after him.  
Many years ago, there were more servants in the house but there were also more people living in there. Sherlock saw pictures from garden parties and elegant dinners but it happened many, many years ago, before Sherlock, or even Mycroft, were born, when grandmother was still young. He remembered only one great party and it felt like a dream. When he closed his eyes and focused very hard he could call back the memory – pretty one, one of his most precious, looking like an invitation, all gold with silver letters – their house was full of lights, Mycroft sneaked in his room and waked him up and walked him far out of the house to show him the house looking like a magic castle with lamps in every window and torches along the driveway. And later when they returned, all these people and perfumes, jewellery sparkling in the lights and Mommy looking pretty in a dress.   
Now there were only six servants and the house stood mostly empty.  
Slowly, so as to not fall down in the dark, Sherlock reached the ground floor and went to the kitchen. From here it was visible that the night was getting lighter, and the grandfather's clock standing on the fireplace counted thirty minutes past three. Soon Peggy, their maid will be awake...  
Quickly Sherlock went over to the wooden door – they didn't have a normal fridge like in telly. The old house had a small room where the cook kept all the products that needed to be kept cold. To get there one needed to go down the few stairs what Sherlock did just now, first taking the torch that he hid in the kitchen yesterday. He pulled the heavy door and after a moment he opened it, and the cold air gave him a goose flesh and he instinctively moved back. Redbeard looked at him with interest but also hid from the cold.   
Sherlock lit up the torch and looked at the dog.   
“You can stay here if you like.” He told him and came into the room. When he went down four steps he looked around; there were shelves with jars, pots and boxes on a hook, there were pieces of meat and even two dead birds. But all of that was nothing in comparison to the content of the red box. 

“Sherlock you know nothing.” Mycroft sighed, disappointed, during the afternoon tea the day before – that meant 'you are stupid' but in a nice manner – when Sherlock asked Mommy (Not Mycroft! But he always stuck his fat nose in other people's business'!) what does it mean to have a heart attack.   
“Shut up!” Sherlock shouted at his brother.  
“You haven't even seen a real heart.” Teased Mycroft.   
“Nor did you!”  
“Of course I did!” Mycroft's nose went even higher pointing towards the ceiling. “Today in the morning when Mrs. Jenkins got half of a pig. There was as heart covered with blood...”  
“Mike! Don't say such things during tea.” Mommy admonished him.  
“You were there sneaking for snacks before breakfast!” Said Sherlock, and seeing Mycroft's face he knew he won this one.   
“I said calm down! Both of you or you will spend the rest of the day helping Mrs. Robertson!”  
They both went silent at once. Mrs. Robertson was the gardener's wife, they lived in a small house and they had four children, a boy in Mycroft's age, twin girls a year younger than Sherlock and a little one which was born six months ago. If they were going to help Mrs. Robertson it meant playing with her children when she was cooking or doing laundry or whatever else she needed at that moment. They both hated it because children were stupid and loud and Erik, the eldest, always tried to hurt Sherlock. Mycroft once beat him up but later came back with his nose bleeding when Erik called his friends.   
But this afternoon Sherlock promised himself that he will go to the kitchen and look at the heart. He asked later Papa – but when Mycroft wasn't anywhere around – if human and animal hearts looked alike and Papa confirmed. Now Sherlock used one of the bigger boxes to get to the red pot. He took it carefully, holding the torch in his mouth like people on films and got down to place the pot on the same box. Almost holding his breath he opened the lid and sighed in both delight and horror.   
What was in the box didn't look like a heart on pictures, but it rather reminded Sherlock of a rare frozen meatball. Or any other piece of meat to tell the truth. Holding his breath he took the heart in his little hands. It was solid frozen and cold, Sherlock took a sniff, it smelled strange, heavy and sickly. He wrinkled his nose and turned the organ in his hands. It felt strange to keep it, by impulse he touched his chest where his own heart was beating. Did it look the same? It should be smaller of course and not frozen...   
Redbeard’s movement at the door reminded Sherlock about the time. He quickly returned the organ into the pot and put it on the shelf again. Closing the door he run towards the stairs and up to his room. He learned that the way back was always shorter than the way 'there'. Before anyone would even notice he wasn't in his bed Sherlock came under the duvet. Now he could tell Mycroft that he saw a heart and he did something Mycroft would never do. It made him smile when he was falling asleep. 

02.2013


End file.
